Rolf Belgum at The Proposition - Love Letters from a Fox Terrier

Rolf Belgum's recent exhibition "Love Letters from a Fox Terrier" explored the themes of psychosis and obsession in two unlikely subjects: Belgum's close friend Dan Cleveland, and the artist's dog, Jacques. In the large front room of the gallery were "portraits" of Jacques. In the back room, Belgum's film Driver 23 (1997), which was selected for the Whitney Biennial in 2000, was shown alongside the follow-up work, The Atlas Moth (2001).

Each of the 72-minute films documents the real-life trials and tribulations of Cleveland, the singer of the not-yet-famous band "Dark Horse," who is severely affected with obsessive-compulsive disorder. Made in Hi-8 video and transferred to 35mm film, each production had a budget of only $750. The distance between subject and filmmaker is reduced--Belgum is as much a participant as a documentarian--and as a result, the viewer feels privy to Cleveland's intimate world. At times, Cleveland comes across as almost laughable--for example, when he performs a glass-shattering death-metal howl, after a noble attempt at convincing ex-band members that he possesses good pitch. But at other times, Cleveland regresses into a deeply disturbed state. A shot of him driving his car reveals that he has painted the band's logo on literally every square inch of the interior. Other segments document Cleveland's months-long project of constructing an elaborate set of pulleys and tracks to move the band's equipment out of the basement, clearly expending more time and energy than simply carrying the gear would require. Although the viewer may at times be discomfited by Cleveland's disjointed existence, his ingeniousness, despite his illness, is evident when he builds a personal exercise center out of milk crates, pulleys and rocks.

The seemingly charming color photographs of Belgum's dog initially appear a poor match for the psychological drama played out in the screening room. Yet there is a connection: the dog, as he maniacally attempts to catch the water streaming from a garden hose, seems to be as obsessive as Cleveland. Belgum himself, for that matter, appears to be overly attentive to the dog, as exemplified in a series of near-scientific photographic studies of Jacques's teeth and hair. The suite of 11 C-prints of Jacques attacking the water, titled "Homage to Darwin," are action shots, crisply focused and highly saturated. They seem artificial, even staged, yet remain truthful to their subject.

Belgum's photographs frequently have a narrative quality. In Silent Film, eight digital photos on a long scroll-like page show Jacques finding a banana peel, rolling on it, eating it, running around and going to the door to be let in, the cuteness of the scenario somewhat undermined by the dog's crazed expression. The viewer is drawn to Belgum's intense, often invasive study of his subjects; with time it becomes increasingly hard to leave.

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COPYRIGHT 2003 Gale Group